Dr. Elara Voss had never trusted mirrors. Not since the day she’d stared into one and seen a stranger’s face staring back—pale, hollow-eyed, lips parted in a silent scream. The reflection had vanished by morning, but the memory lingered, a splinter in her mind. Now, as she adjusted the clamps on the stainless-steel table, the same unease coiled in her gut. Across from her, the subject—Kael—lay still, his chest rising in slow, deliberate rhythms. His skin was a mosaic of scars, fresh and healing, as if his body existed in a constant state of reconstruction.
“You’re not like the others,” Elara said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. Kael’s eyes fluttered open, dark and unblinking. He didn’t respond. Just watched her, as he always did, his gaze sharp enough to cut through her carefully constructed walls.
The lab reeked of antiseptic and iron. A hum filled the air, the low vibration of machines working overtime. Elara’s fingers brushed the edge of a scalpel, its blade glinting under the fluorescent lights. She’d used it earlier, carving a shallow gash into Kael’s forearm. The wound had closed within minutes, leaving only a faint pink line. A miracle, if she’d believed in miracles.
“How do you feel?” she asked, her tone lighter now, almost conversational.
Kael’s lips parted. “Tired,” he said. The word was a whisper, barely audible. “Like I’ve been running for hours.” His voice was rough, gravel against silk. It made her pulse quicken.
Elara nodded, though the answer didn’t satisfy her. She’d expected pain, maybe confusion. Not this quiet resignation. “Tell me about the last thing you remember.”
Kael’s brow furrowed. He looked away, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “It’s… fuzzy.”
“Try,” she urged, stepping closer. The air between them felt charged, as if the very molecules were holding their breath.
He exhaled sharply. “A fire,” he said. “Smoke. Screaming. Something… something I can’t quite grasp.” His voice wavered, and for a moment, Elara thought he might cry. But he didn’t. He just stared at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.
She turned away, pacing the length of the lab. The walls were lined with monitors, their screens flickering with data she’d long since stopped reading. Every experiment, every observation—it all led to this: Kael. A man who should have died a dozen times over, yet here he was, alive and unbroken.
“You’re not human,” she said finally, more to herself than him.
Kael’s head snapped toward her. “What?”
“Your body… it doesn’t follow the rules.” She gestured to the table, to the scars that vanished like mist. “You heal faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. Faster than you should.”
He sat up slowly, his movements deliberate. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“It’s… complicated.” She hesitated, then added, “You’re not the first to come to me with injuries. But none of them healed like this. None of them remembered anything after.”
Kael’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
Elara hesitated. The truth was a knife she wasn’t sure she wanted to wield. “They didn’t remember who they were. Or where they’d been. It was like… like their minds had been wiped clean.”
A long silence stretched between them. Then Kael laughed, a dry, bitter sound. “So I’m the exception, huh?”
“Not exactly,” she said, though the words felt hollow.
He stood, his movements fluid, and stepped toward her. The scent of his skin was unfamiliar—clean, but with an underlying sharpness, like ozone after a storm. “What happens if I don’t remember?”
Elara’s throat tightened. “I don’t know.”
Kael tilted his head, studying her. “You’re lying.”
She didn’t deny it. Instead, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small notebook. Its pages were filled with notes, diagrams, and scribbles—her attempts to make sense of Kael’s condition. She flipped to a specific page, pointing at a series of numbers. “This is what I’ve observed. The more you heal, the more you forget. It’s like your brain is… rewriting itself.”
Kael’s expression darkened. “You’re saying I’m losing who I am.”
“I’m saying you’re changing,” she corrected. “In ways I can’t yet explain.”
He let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t happening,” he muttered. “This is some kind of dream. A hallucination.”
“If it is,” Elara said, “then I’m the one who’s been dreaming. And I’ve been dreaming about you for a long time.”
Kael turned away, his shoulders tense. “What do you want from me?”
“I want the truth,” she said. “About who you are. What you’ve done. Why you’re here.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the far end of the lab, where a large window overlooked the city below. The lights of the metropolis glowed like a sea of stars, but Kael’s gaze was fixed on something else—something only he could see.
Elara watched him, her heart heavy with the weight of unanswered questions. She’d spent years chasing the unknown, but this… this felt different. Kael wasn’t just a mystery to solve. He was a puzzle with pieces she wasn’t sure she wanted to find.
“You’re not the first,” she said quietly, more to herself than him. “But you might be the last.”
Kael didn’t respond. He just stood there, his back to her, and waited for the next question she didn’t have the courage to ask.
